Second Best
by Meg Ishiro
Summary: An uncertain Faramir has some troubling thoughts on his wedding day.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: An uncertain Faramir has some troubling thoughts on his wedding day._

_Rating: K for no obvious adult themes. _

_A/N: Doesn't anyone ever wonder how Eowyn could possibly marry Faramir without a second thought about her first love? This is my second shot at an Eowyn story. Please read and review! By the way, Steelelf, I respect your review but I just want you to know that you can never love your second love the same way as your first! I know that from experience._

_Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all of its characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien who is not me, meaning that I do not own anything._

Faramir's P.O.V:

Must I truly wear this terribly itchy collar? Oh, I must face it: these diversions aren't fooling myself. But how can one put my nerves or me to blame? I have not only a wedding vow to share with Eowyn but my whole life. After today, there is no going back. I remember how we used to be soat ease with each other, so many years ago; back when our lives were but threads, coiling up in one another and becoming stronger and stronger as the days past. We have gotten older since then, wiser, stronger, but thicker and harder to coil.

_Flashback_

Eowyn's P.O.V:

There he is: Lord Faramir of Ithilien. How can I expect to converse with my beloved friend without mentioning the wedding proposal that occurred the other day? I cannot afford to break his heart now and lose the only joy left in my world. Perhaps I should evade him entirely.

"Lady! Dear lady," he cries from our stables, bounding toward my hiding place in an instant. "I searched for you all day! Do you have any idea how fearful I was for your safety?" He grins boyishly as though all events prior to this one have no affect on him whatsoever.

"Ah, my Lord," I acknowledge him sheepishly. Even a dunce would recognize my poor attempts to hide. "Do you fare well this evening?"

"How could I fare well," Faramir replied, "Having agonized over your reply to my proposal all night and therefore having had no sleep?"

I blink at him stupidly, wishing in vain that he would shrug and change the subject. But everyone knows that Faramir is smarter than that.

"Do you have an answer to give me or must I agonize even longer?" I note with a pang how joyful he looks tonight, so full of hope.

"Yes," I say softly with guilt swimming through my head, "I do have an answer for you." There is silence between us and for a moment, all that can be heard is the distant clanging of plates as the maids prepare the supper.

Faramir continues to grin obliviously. "Shall I hear it or shall I snatch it out from your head to put into mine?" Suddenly my eyelids grow numb and they close as my whole life up to this point flashes before my eyes.

I love this man but as a brother, not as a lover. But he is so hopeful, so in love with me. Don't pretend to fear his feelings! All you fear is subduing to the unruly game of love. Yet I would have gladly subdued to King Elessar's will in a split second a few years ago. But Aragorn was different: Aragorn was unobtainable. Faramir is right there for the taking. Yes, I should seize this opportunity to gain a respectable husband and build a loving home and family. That is so amusing. You make excuses to settle for just that! Don't you see? Faramir loves you. Faramir was there beside you on your deathbed, though he was practically on his simultaneously. Faramir was your knight in shining armor who loved you when it felt like no one else did. Aragorn wasn't.

"My Lord," I tell him smiling, "I would like to be your Lady."

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. I was having a really hard time deciding where to place the next scene and I was really confused about where I wanted this go at the end. Anyway, please review and thanks to everyone who has; you have no idea how much it means to me. Oh, and I changed Thengel to Éomund so thanks to those who pointed it out! I seriously have to stop being so lazy sometimes and go look stuff like that up…_

Faramir's P.O.V.:

_Flashback_

I wake to find myself in a foreign room smelling of herbs and medicines. How have I come here? I close my eyes briefly and sigh: the Houses of Healing. I have been here many times as a boy, "volunteered" to its services by my father.

"Awake, are you, sir?" A soft voice calls from the bed beside me. She looks as pale as a sickly child save for the many patches of dried blood that are scattered on her face.

"Yes," I murmur, "how did you know?" The woman smiles knowingly.

"I have been waiting for you to wake since you arrived, nine days ago. Your wounds indicated that you had a remarkable story to tell." I wonder if anyone has told her the same. How could a woman bear the scar of the Witch King of Angmar? She must have done something truly foolish to deserve that, and something truly lucky to have survived.

"I'm afraid that you will have to speak of your tale first, woman, for I do not remember almost anything since a great battle near Osgiliath and my pain does not seem to come from any sword." Her face darkens with disappointment as she speaks. "Then _I'm _afraid that we must settle to speak as normal folk, for I do not remember anything either. You are Lord Faramir of Ithilien, are you not? That serving maid over there has told me so. Very well, Lord Faramir, I am Éowyn, daughter of Éomund."

She is so bold for her age, as if nothing interferes with her life except what is to come. "Perchance," I say quietly, "you should be grateful to talk at all. That black cut next to your mouth looks something dreadful." Éowyn laughs painfully until a sturdy knock on the door interrupts her voice.

"Come in," I say smiling. She has such contagious indifference.

A sweating man comes in, his face blackened by dirt and worry. Immediately he sees the lady and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"So I see you are healing, Lady Éowyn," his voice reflects his muscular build. Éowyn straightens in her surprise and smiles forcefully. "Aragorn, I am so honored to have you visit." I wonder who this man is, though his name sounds oddly familiar.

One of the healing maids stops applying my bandage and gasps in recognition. "My King! What brings you here again?" I frown in confusion. I have never heard of this man, this "King". This lady must be from outside of Minas Tirith.

Aragorn smiles weakly, obviously drained of all energy. "Actually, Ealrian, I have been staying here for quite some time since Éowyn's arrival just to make sure she was healing properly."

The old maid chuckles lightly and her face wrinkles fondly. "How could she not be healing properly, after all that you did to save her?" Éowyn looks as confused as I am at this point. How could this rugged man have healed such a deadly wound? She blushes suddenly. "Forgive me," she says looking flustered, "I did not even imagine that you had healed me. Thank you, sir." The man bowed slightly.

"Oh, and Faramir," she adds quickly, "Please forgive my lack of manners as well. This is Aragorn, the man who saved my life." I nod in acknowledgement towards him. "Your lover?" I ask her innocently. Suddenly the room grows deadly quiet and I can sense an awkward connection between the two. Aragorn breaks the silence with a feigned smile.

"No, Faramir, Éowyn and I are simply good friends who go back quite a bit." I will have to thoroughly inquire about this man once I am healed.

Soon Aragorn backs away from our bedsides with a look of embarrassment. "I will leave you two to rest, but expect me back in the near future." We both mutter thanks towards him as he gets up and heads to the door.

"My King," calls an elderly Gondorian soldier from the other side of the room, "We trust that you will restore peace amongst our people when these dark times have passed." Aragorn pauses to turn around and smile at the wounded soldier. "I thank you, sir." The door closes softly and I can feel my jaw drop in the silence. Ealrian picks up the dropped cloth and starts up again, winding my blackened arm and applying a fragrant paste to the other.

"I know what you are wondering about," she says timidly, "But we will save that for another day. You need to rest as the King says you should." I take no comfort from her words, but I soon feel myself drifting off into a soothing lull. I will find answers later.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This chapter might seem a little out of place with the rest, but I felt that it was a good situation to put in to show the relationship between Éowyn and Faramir. Also, I don't really know if they were really even together when they found out that Denethor and Théoden were dead (yes, I **know **that Denethor was not killed in the Battle of Pelennor Fields but I'm assuming that Faramir found out after that battle), so this might bother some people if they know for sure that they weren't. Sorry to those people. Anyhow, please review!_

Faramir's P.O.V.:

_Flashback_

My whole mind is numb, utterly shocked by what I have just heard. There is no room in my heart for resentment toward this Aragorn, this "king" who snatched up my nation while I slept.

It was never meant for me; if not for my father, then for Boromir. It was neither my punishment nor anyone else's, for Gondor's rightful king could have returned during any reign in his entire lifetime. It was simply his fate as well as mine. My father would not have wanted it this way, but he would not have had a choice.

My father: he can not be truly gone; the very thought is so inconceivable. Surely not the Great Steward of Gondor; surely not the booming man who would laugh heartily at the minstrel's tales of my bumbling youth. Surely not the father who comforted me as I witnessed war for the first time as a child. It simply cannot be.

"I am so sorry," speaks Éowyn softly, "I know that he was a great man." Though I know that she has been in my place at one point, I can not help trying to find dishonesty in her words. There is none.

"You should not say so," I whisper, brushing the tears from my own cheek, "Not without expecting equal sympathy. Your uncle was once great as well. He would be proud of you, Éowyn, after all you have done in his honor." We sit silently together, watching the people of Minas Tirith mournfully go about their activities outside in equal silence.

She stifles a sob suddenly and I instinctively grab her hand. Recognizing the awkwardness of the situation, I try to pull it away once she is comforted but she holds onto it tightly and forces a smile. I can not stand it any longer.

"How do you do it," I ask suddenly, "How do you go through so much pain in your life so regularly and then manage to recover in time for the next trial? How do you continuously roll about in this cycle of trauma without saying a word?" She looks down and loosens her grip on my hand. "Practice," she says looking up into my eyes again, "A life full of practice. There came a time when I realized that if you can not pick yourself up from a blow in time, you just get beat down harder by the next one. It is the only thing I can do to survive."

She is such a wonder to me, never failing to amaze with every step that she takes. This woman has more strength than any man could muster in a whole lifetime.

"I will need you," I say quietly, my voice trembling, "I will need you here beside me." Éowyn takes up my other hand and turns to face me. "We will always be here for each other throughout our grief." She is silent but I can still feel her eyes glaring back at me in the evening light. I stare back at her inquiringly.

"Do I have your word sir?" The seriousness in her voice for what would seem like such a trivial question would normally have made me laugh, but I nod solemnly and we are silent once more.

A wind picks up, ruffling her hair and tossing it playfully in front of her face. She ignores it and continues to stare into my eyes, as if looking for something beneath what she says. The position I am in could be seen as quite uncomfortable, but I know that I have nothing to hide from this woman of steel. We are living the same nightmare, and someday we will wake up together and find that everything is exactly how we left it: perfect.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Wow, this chapter took a LONG time to put up but it's actually been written for a while. Thanks for waiting! Oh yeah, and please review!_

_Flashback_

Éowyn's P.O.V.:

My time here in the Houses of Healing is over. A part of me wishes to stay but a moment longer, but I know that my brother expects me back home where I am needed.

I turn from the wall to say farewell to Faramir, who has been my life through my death. He sleeps like a babe, drooling onto his pillow with innocence. How I love this man.

Carefully avoiding his saliva, I brush his cheek with my trembling hand. "We shall meet again, Faramir, Son of Denethor," I whisper gently, "We shall meet again." Then slowly, with a pang in my chest, I rise with my belongings to follow a young Rohirrim soldier to his horse.

Though he rides even more poorly than I, it would be cruel to crush his dignity by offering to switch places. After all, he is being paid to lead the sick maiden home, not to be led home by the sick maiden. So he leads me home.

Faramir's P.O.V.:

How beautiful are the Ered Nimrais from the steps of Meduseld! I have not seen their snow capped peaks for what feels like an eternity. They almost make me forget my purpose here in Rohan.

The guard called Háma rushes back to my place outside the hall.

"The king grants you entry, good sir. May you win favor with him and his queen." I nod in thanks and walk slowly through the magnificent hall.

"Gold pillars," I say softly to myself, "Exactly what Father was nagging me to build before Boromir left. How he craved to put but a fraction of the majesty of Edoras into Minas Tirith."

"The Golden Hall," booms a strong voice in front of me, "Is no place to mourn the dead. If you feel the need to, please get out and come back in when you are ready. We are in happy times now, and it would not do to crush the spirits of the people so quickly."

I grin and look up at the three steps leading to the dais. There sits King Éomer, the eighteenth king of Rohan.

"Would I have to go through security again, sir?" I ask. Éomer grins back. "For you, my friend, I would distract Háma as you crawled back in." Now tell me, Faramir; what brings you here to the Land of the Horse-lords?"

Should I tell him the truth? Would he understand? I look up suddenly and notice a white robed lady with a mellow expression on her fair face standing behind the king: Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil. Yes, he would understand.

"I wish to wed a lady." There is silence and I wish to hide behind Boromir's cloak as I once did as a boy. Éomer leans in as if to listen for details, but there are none. "Well, I am afraid that it is not my permission you must seek," he says hesitantly, "But the male guardian of the lady you wish to wed." More silence follows and I can feel my cheeks burning up.

"My king," I start slowly and with difficulty, "I _am _asking the permission of the male guardian of the lady I wish to marry." Éomer frowns, obviously puzzled. "My friend, I know that he is known throughout Rohan for his beautiful auburn locks, but our dear little Elfwine is indeed a boy. You know I would be obligated to accept if it were not the case." As my throat tightens up, I wonder if Éomer is truly as clever as he is known for.

"I wish to wed your sister, sire, the great Lady Éowyn." The lady behind Éomer gasps slightly, and then covers her mouth with a dainty hand. The king's lips purse, but he suddenly feigns a smile. "Well then, Faramir, I am afraid that you must first pass the test given to all of her suitors."

My heart thumps with the energy of a three year old. "And what may that test be, sire?" He curls his lips and sits up straight again.

"Persuade her to accept your proposal," he booms again with confidence, "And your wife she will be for many long, prosperous years."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Um, ok I guess Lothiriel **is **Éomer's cousin but I didn't check on that before I checked the Encyclopedia of Arda to see whom he married… well anyway the point is that he married her. Plus Eleanor Roosevelt married her cousin! I think. I don't really pay attention in history class. Well thanks to everyone who reviewed even if you didn't like it, just know that I may love reading flames in the beginning but about five seconds after I leave the computer, I go, "I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST GOT FLAMED!" so please be kind of sensitive to that. Thanks, and love y'all! _

_Flashback_

Éomer's P.O.V. 

I cannot keep from smiling as Faramir leaves the hall. You clever king, you. Lothiriel is still in shock as she places her hand on my head. "My king, is it not cruel to put him through this?" she asks.

Sighing, I reach up to squeeze her fair hand. "Yes, my dear," I say softly, "It is cruel indeed, but so is the man who wishes to take away my beloved sister. This is the only way." She sighs as well and fixes my crown. "As you wish."

Faramir's P.O.V.

A love match? I am no Beren… why can't he be like the traditional men and be satisfied that a good, respectable man with money is interested in his sister? Well, if that is truly his game, I am prepared to win. The only question at hand is how.

"Faramir!" She runs towards me with a saddle in one hand and I instantly break out into cold sweat. "Ah, Èowyn," I say nervously, "I see that coming home has done you some good after all! You look well."

"As do you," she exclaims, examining my burns and scars with interest. "How does your family fare?" She asks politely with a smile, then immediately realizes her mistake. "Oh, Faramir, I am so sorry, I was not thinking properly-" I interrupt her by bringing a finger to her lips. "Fear not, Lady," I say, "For I am now healed in more than one way."

She smiles again softly and we begin to speak of other things. As she talks, the words floating off her tongue one by one, I am lost for words of my own in a second. All I can hear is noise, twisting and turning around in the air as my head throbs unsteadily.

"My lady," I interrupt again, "Forgive me for being blunt as I often am, but every moment that passes makes me believe that I am falling more and more in love with you." She blushes in the sunlight, positively shocked. "Lord Faramir," she stutters, "I- do not quite know what to say-" My confidence shoots up suddenly and I speak once again.

"I knew, Èowyn, from the moment I saw that you bore the black scar, that it was a sign from heaven. The way you were there in my time of need; I have not had a woman in my life since my mother passed. You are the strength, the beauty, the truth I need in my life. I need you. Will you be my wife so that we may start over together?" Èowyn smiles weakly as I fall silent but I know that I must not worry. This is what I feel for her, and what is said is said.

"Give me time to think," she says, "And I will have an answer for you tomorrow." Slowly I take her hand and kiss it softly but I know that the meaning has been changed in a matter of minutes.

"Thank you, my lady," I say gently, and she walks away slowly towards the hall.

Suddenly a tall man walks out from the shadows of the courtyard: Háma. He smiles a sad smile and bows his head slightly as a sign of respect.

"Forgive me for eavesdropping, sir, but I wanted to wish you well," he says gruffly. "After all, I was one of her suitors in my youth. She is a hard lady to win, you see, but worth winning in the end."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Wow; this took forever to put up! Sorry about that. Like I said, from now on I'm not going to be posting that often because of school and such. For now, just enjoy this chapter and review your hearts out!_

Éowyn's P.O.V.:

I am practically quaking with joy tonight in my bed to the point of insomnia. Am I really, truly going to marry Lord Faramir, the man whom I love? It cannot be, it simply cannot be!

Suddenly I cannot hold back my excitement any longer. Jolting from my bed, I lift my petticoats and head down the hall. Everything is so quiet, so serene that I feel the urge to scream the name of my love so it can bounce off the great walls and echo forever. The guards sleep against the columns and I shake a particularly young one until he awakes.

"Wh-What?" His lids fight to stay up.

"Please don't look at me in that way," I pout airily, "After all, I _am _to be married soon to Lord Faramir." He forces a look of confusion before his head drops back and he resumes his sleep. Yes, it is just as I thought; no one can seem to contain their joy for us!

I run outside and am still as I feel the cool breeze graze my left cheek. There lies the grave of my dear uncle. Walking slowly towards it, I rest my hands on the golden tomb where his body lies and lean in to kiss it gently. He would have been happy for me.

"Uncle," I whisper as my voice drifts off into the wind, "I've found him; I've finally found him."

Faramir's P.O.V.:

Go to sleep, you fool, go to sleep. Tomorrow you will wake in the Houses of Healing and find that it was all but a dream. You will see her sitting up on her bed saying, "Good heavens, sir, keep your drool where it belongs!" just as always.

But I'm not, she's not, and we are to be married! You fool, where did _that _dream come from? Pray tell me what you ate tonight to make you go insane?

Oh, just let me celebrate! You only get engaged once and sleep can be granted after the children come along. I assume.

How did everything happen so fast? I remember it like it was yesterday… you fool, it was today and you don't remember a thing! Right.

Éowyn's P.O.V.:

Maybe I should go back to my quarters before somebody finds me and throws a fit. I wander across the hall again because I suddenly can't seem to remember my way.

Cringing slightly at the thought, I frantically search through the maze of corridors to try and find my quarters. How can I have gotten lost? I've lived here for most of my life! Curse that Lord Faramir; he makes me forget everything.

As I head for my brother's room, I suddenly am quite grateful that his is the most heavily guarded one because it makes it much easier to find. Slipping in a sharp piece of hay through the keyhole to unlock the door, I sneak past the sleeping guards into his chambers. They really need to tighten the security around here.

Tip-toeing up to his bed past the wooden furniture, I shake his arm vigorously. Lothíriel unconsciously drapes her arm across his chest as if to protect him.

"Éomer, wake up!" I whisper loudly. He twitches and snores loudly in his sleep. "That's… king… to you…" he murmurs. Then he opens his eyes with a startled moment of realization and sees me sitting by his bedside.

"Sister! Do not wake me so! You could be killed for trying to break into my room!" I grin nervously but don't have the heart to tell him how easy it was. "Why are you here?" He asks urgently. "Are you in danger? Is someone following you? Are you going to war?"

Sheepishly I tell him the truth. "I, um, seem to have lost my way back to my chambers." His mouth opens slowly with anger. "Not out drinking, I pray? Éowyn, as the sister of the king, you now have a reputation to uphold! Now go to sleep outside and let this be a lesson to you. _No more drinking!_" With that, he pulls the covers over his head and refuses to say another word.

Annoyed with his insensitivity towards my situation, I spit on his toes peeking out from the end of the bed. "I felt that, sister!" he says with rage as he curls his body up so that no skin is showing. I take such pleasure in destroying this man's dignity. The way he puts on such airs with his new crown is disgusting.

Reluctantly I stand and walk out to the corridor again. Perhaps sleeping outside is not such a bad idea. Opening the door and feeling the wind's cold breath pierce my skin, I slowly walk towards a giant mound of warm hay. Covering myself with this newfound sunshine, I drift off to sleep with dreams of my new life with… what is his name?


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I haven't updated in months! Well, I'm kind of fond of this chapter. It's a twist, so I hope you weren't expecting it to end any time soon. Anyway, please read and **review**, and most of all, enjoy!_

_Faramir's P.O.V.:_

A year it has been since the ceremony. What has happened since then, you ask? I will tell you. As I have retained my title as the Stupidest Man in Arda, I have also gained yet another title: the Loneliest Man in Arda. How can that be, you ask? What of the lady, Éowyn; is she not your wife? Many and many a day, I have wished that I could put these doubts to rest. The truth is that the ceremony was never finished.

_Flashback_

Already it is my wedding day, and long have I waited for it. Why, then, am I as afraid and unsure as a boy? Is it the conversation I came across at the banquet? For surely it was nothing.

"Funny," the servant had whispered to her friend, "Him and that Éowyn. Do you think he knows?" The friend had given a quizzical look and leaned in slightly.

"Know what?"

"About her lover, of course!" The servant had beamed, obviously proud of herself for obtaining this juicy piece of gossip. "_I _heard that Éowyn only has eyes for one man, not Faramir, and he is none other than…" but the noise of the crowd had blocked out the name. Cursing the drunken lords for their loud speech, I had left the servants.

Maybe it really was nothing. But what if it was not? And what man did they speak of? I cannot think of any man who could make her look at them the way she looks at me. Not a single man who I have seen who makes her cheeks flush… save for one.

"Sir, it is time." My guard points to the door from where I will enter the ceremony but my mind is teeming with confusion. She said I was the one.

_Éowyn's P.O.V.:_

It is just moments before the ceremony. I can finally confirm to the entire whole world what I have already said to it: he is the one. For once in my life, I have a future. _We_ have a future. I am ready.

"Éowyn!" His deep voice and pounding footsteps ring through the corridor and I swallow hard. The last man in the world I wish to see now.

"Good afternoon, King Elessar." I start to bow but curtsy at the last minute and steal a glance at him as I look up. He has cleaned up quite a bit for the ceremony.

"You look beautiful," he says calmly, but I can feel shivers running along my spine. I may not love him anymore, but I will always remember. "I came to give my blessings to you and Faramir and to give you this-"

He searches through his leather pouch and pulls out a strand of shimmering, pearl flowers on a delicate silver chain. Daisies: my favorite.

"Beautiful- it's beautiful- thank you, King Elessar," I manage to sputter out.

"A good friend of mine in Rivendell made it," he continues. "He said it was for your hair, but I do not know how to arrange it. Maybe something like this…" He takes the chain and weaves it skillfully into my hair. "I am quite good, am I not?" He laughs heartily but I, still at a loss for words, just smile.

"Thank you," I whisper again. He nods and smiles.

"You should be going; the ceremony has already started." With that, he turns and goes through the curtains of my quarters and back to his seat. Had I not had Faramir, I would have fallen for this man again just now. Thank Eru for Faramir.

_Faramir's P.O.V.:_

Already I have entered the courtyard. Seated before me are hundreds of people: family, friends, many of whom I do not recognize. Why is Éowyn not here? It is she that was to enter first on the arm of her brother.

"Where is the lady?" calls a man from the back.

"Perhaps I should get her," I whisper to Éomer and he nods. Stepping back inside, I run down the corridor to her quarters. Strangely, I hear talking coming from the inside. Quieting my footsteps, I brush the curtain aside slightly and peek inside.

Éowyn is sitting upon a stool. A man with large hands places something into her hair and he laughs merrily. My eyes trace the arms to the beholder: Aragorn. "You should be going," he says to her, "The ceremony has already started." I run back to the courtyard before they might spot me. My heart is still racing even after I have stopped running.

"Is she coming?" Éomer asks me inquiringly. I nod, but don't know whether to stop nodding and run or continue and stay.

"I see Aragorn running to his seat with a pang. Éowyn then appears through the door frame, looking lovely but rather flushed. She clutches the arm of Éomer and smiles apologetically. They walk towards me and I to them and we meet in the center of the courtyard. Harps and lutes are playing loudly but I hardly hear them. My heart is beating all through my head and I look at the woman who has broken me as I approach her. Perhaps it is time to settle this, once and for all.

"Eowyn," I say as calmly as I can, "We need to discuss something. It's about _him._"


End file.
